


better than none

by daleked



Series: This Might Help Challenge [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fisting, M/M, this might help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:17:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleked/pseuds/daleked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fisting. A ficlet for @keysmashblog's This Might Help challenge. Takes place after 3x02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	better than none

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/gifts).



> Hey, y'all. I was nervous about posting this but the lovely people on twitter and tumblr told me it was fine and to get this on ao3. So I did.

"Shit," Derek says, and tries his best to relax into Stiles' touch. He's trembling under Stiles' palm, the skin on his back hot with sweat and nervousness. Boyd and Cora are safe in the basement, under heavy sedation as Deaton had prescribed. He'd insisted on keeping them under a while more until the full moon waned. They've been missing for so long-- what's a few more days?  
   
"Calm down, Derek," Stiles croons. His voice is steady, and his hand slides along Derek's body confidently. When it reaches Derek's ass, he taps it lightly twice. Derek spreads his legs and looks at the pillow in front of him, balancing on his elbows and knees.  
   
"You can let your upper half rest on my pillow," Stiles tells him. There's the snap of a surgical glove behind Derek and he shakily puts his arms down, lowering himself so that his ass is in the air. These encounters don't make Derek feel cheap, despite the positions he finds himself in, but only because Stiles touches him so reverently. Like he's something to be treasured and taken care of. It's times like these that Derek doesn't feel as though he's treading broken glass. Stiles splits him open and puts him back together more whole than he was before, and Derek is grateful for these sessions.  
   
"I warmed the lube for you," Stiles murmurs conversationally in a voice gone hot, and Derek feels a finger circle his opening. True to what Stiles said, the lube is warm and gloopy and achingly intimate. Stiles pushes in and Derek presses himself back, opening up.  
   
"That's a good boy," Stiles praises, and strokes along the back of Derek's thigh. "Open up for me."  
   
Derek does as he's told.  
   
+  
   
"Hush," Stiles says. "You wanted this." Derek makes a high sound in the back of his throat but stays still as Stiles applies pressure, fingers pressed together at the tips and gliding through, entering him. Derek pants at the long slide of fingers into him, widening gradually until Stiles slows down and there's a squirt of lube right at his sphincter, and Stiles' other hand comes up to rub it in. Derek starts at the skin-on-skin contact but keeps still afterwards as Stiles draws out then pushes in again, and his knuckles feel almost too big as they push past.

"Big," Derek breathes. In any other situation, Stiles would make fun of the monosyllabic description, but at the moment they're both sweaty and naked and Stiles is about to put his entire fist up Derek’s ass.   
   
 "My fingers are cramping a little," Stiles says. "It gets easier from here." Derek is ready to swear that he can feel the bumps of Stiles' knuckles inside him, an inescapable fullness helped along by the surgical glove. It tapers down to his wrist and Derek lets out a low moan,  shaking a little as Stiles stops moving. He's full, possessed and completely owned.

"I'm going to ball my hand up. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Derek says. His voice doesn't shake. "Green." Stiles bends down and kisses the base of Derek's spine, careful not to jostle him.

"Okay then." Derek can feel the shift inside him and closes his eyes, imagining how Stiles' hand is moving inside him. Stiles had demonstrated it to him before the session, showing Derek how his fist would form inside him.

"I'll tuck my thumb in," Stiles had said, his thumb curling down from the silent duck position to fit into his palm. "And bend the tips of my fingers before folding them in to form a fist. It might be uncomfortable for a second, but you know exactly what to say, don't you?"

Derek had agreed. And now they are here, and Stiles' hand brushes against his prostate. Derek's neglected cock jerks once and Stiles chuckles. His fingers are balled up tight now, a heavy weight inside Derek.

"You can break walls with your fist," Stiles murmurs. "But this is what I can do with mine." He twists slightly, scraping past Derek's prostate insistently, and Derek gasps and tries his best to keep still, keep still, don't move-- his concentration is shattered when Stiles repeats the movement again.

"Please," Derek begs, and that's all he needs to say.

"I'm going to pull out before you jerk off," Stiles warns. The pillow beneath Derek's face is damp. He cries out when Stiles leaves his body, turning over and arching and presenting himself. Stiles takes his cock in hand lovingly and jerks him off. Derek comes with a grunt on his stomach, anus clenching around nothingness.

Maybe next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought of this. Also, I'm looking for fic prompts from any fandom, so hit me up.


End file.
